My graduation approval was marked pending.
My honor stole was reassigned.
Spencer told Gemma the university had finally discovered what I was really like.
Gemma repeated that line to Pamela.
Pamela called me into the kitchen and placed the investigation notice on the table between us.
She did not ask whether the accusation was true.
She did not ask what would happen to my degree.
She smiled.
“You should stay home,” she said. “Why humiliate yourself?”
Oliver was sleeping in a portable bassinet near the doorway.
Pamela looked toward him and lowered her voice.
“You have already given people enough to talk about.”
Three weeks earlier, I had found him outside Saint Teresa Clinic in a worn cardboard carrier.
The morning had been cool, and the carrier had been placed close to the side entrance where employees arrived before opening.
A hospital blanket was wrapped around him, and one corner had slipped away from his face.
He was not crying loudly.
That was what frightened me most.
His cries were thin and tired, more like small protests than the full voice of a healthy newborn.
